gra-tu-i-tous |grəˈt(y)oōitəs|
{ORIGIN mid 17th cent.: from Latin gratuitus ‘given freely,spontaneous’}
1. uncalled for; lacking good reason; unwarranted : gratuitous violence.2. given or done free of charge : gratuitous advice.
vi-o-let |ˈvī(ə)lət|{ORIGIN Middle English : from Old French violette} adjective:
1. a bluish-purple color seen at the end of the spectrum opposite red.
2. a herbaceous plant of temperate regions, typically having purple, blue,or white five-petaled flowers, one of which forms a landing pad for pollinating insects. Genus Viola, family Violaceae.
3. ME.

Sunday, February 26, 2012

Applause Applause Applause

Applauses All Around.
For Moi.

Mimi @ Magical Mystical Mimi bestowed me with this:

Originally from someone called Unicorna.
Like I could resist posting it 

I f'n LOVE Owls.
So there's also that.

It came with some directions but I may be unable to follow them 100%.
I will do my bastardized best.

1. - Link back to the person who awarded you this award.
2. - Follow the person who awarded you this award.
3. - Proudly display your award on your blog.

4. - List 5 of your favorite things.
5. - Pass this award onto 5 fellow bloggees.

First of all, I love that someone found el Blob-o here cute
I fucking drop so many f-bombs and goddamned c-bombs, it's like catholic school around here!  

(Bless us all!)

I will list my 5 favorite CUTE things, rather than my 5 general fave's. 
Let's face it, that's harder to do. Let's go!

1) Baby freiken animals. 

 Put a baby animal in a basket and I will fall over dead:

That shit is like my Kryptonite. No exaggeration. 

2) Miniature stuff that's used in everyday life: 

tiny furniture, 

mini kitchen appliances,

 micro home-wares, 

tiny tarot, etc.

3) When Fletcher snores. 

Or any cat/dog who "talks" in their sleep &/or "runs" while laying down and sleeping as well. 
Have you experienced this? 
Amazing stuff.

4) When I overhear little kids use swear words.

I used to be a nanny and my little charge would exclaim "Shit!!!" when he dropped anything. That was his "father's" doing, not mine. 
I just enjoyed it inside

It is also adorable when I hear little fuckers with foreign accents.

 How cute is that? Very.

5) Creepy old dolls with missing limbs and such. 

Stuff cute yet bordering on the grotesque usually grabs my attention. 

Like three-legged dogs or cats. 

If it's maimed, I usually want to hug it as I squeal "Awwww", then bring it home, or mail it to a friend. Well, maybe not mail a dog to a friend exactly. 

Alrighty then... I have to pass this cuteness on. Great. 
I shall pass it onto those folks who may see "cute" in ways I deem cute.
I.E. Ridiculously.

~ Katy @ Lesbians In My Soup because she's knife-sharp and I love soup. 
~ Flip @ Hill Blocks View because he tells lies to us regularly and I laugh because of those said lies.
~ Dirty Cowgirl @ Left Alone with a Full Moon because she enlightens us about random thoughts, twisted and distorted with quite witty proportions.
~ Lucy @ How to Hate Everything because without the how-to part, I would be a dirty hippy.
~ Greg @ Greg Scott's Compendium of the Weird and the Wonderful because he's one funny mofo.
And because he's all over the place being funny and poignant, and doesn't give a shit:
~ Rafa @ The Rude Blog.

So take it or leave it. 

It is Oscar night right?

Consider YOU awarded.

Saturday, February 25, 2012

Wasting Time When Time is All Ya Got

I spent hours blob drafting while crying this morning. 
Then deleted that crap.
 My latest knitting project has proven to be 2.5 skeins-worth of a waste of my efforts this week. 
So I started another project I may never complete.
And then
I pointlessly drove with a friend to run her errands as a favor- 
to a place that wasn't even open this weekend.
And proceeded to get carsick on route home.

Ms. V- this is your life.


I came home and wanted lie down and chill with my kitty to find that she was already sleeping-
 on my pillow.  
And still is.
There goes that idea. 

Was originally titled "Nyan Cat Timelapse" 
but looks more like 
"Poptart Space-Cat Fart Rainbow" to me. 

So what did I do? 

I spent 2 hours, maybe more, investigating nail-art tutorials on YouTube. 
I did not do my taxes. 
I did not get fresh air or exercise.
 I did not even make art. 
I watched videos made by fetuses with deep southern drawls on how to marbleize and newspaper-ize and create galaxies on my fucking fingernails. 


You know that shit's cool

Even Stephen Hawking fucking agrees with me.

I guess it all started last night, as I was an utter mess before I even woke. 

Stupid f'n Baby

Dumb psycho upstairs neighbors were goddamned river-dancing at like 6:45 in the fucking a.m. on my one day to sleep in. 

Fucking Douchebags

As if that wasn't bad enough, I woke on the verge of a chaotic emo tailspin after a shitty night of dreaming about and subsequently missing Mr. fucking X and the shadow of a sex life I until most recently had. 

Seriously. Why do I bother?

Stupid time-period movies- don't watch them, especially before beddy-bye. 
Something about the costumes, of which I am a complete sucker for, mixed with the yummy debauchery, of which I am also a complete sucker for- equals my undoing. 
That's why I refuse to watch The Tudors
(Which I know I would love.)

He is hot enough to get burned on. Or under.

And also this morning, I made bad breakfast decisions and fell off my diet wagon. 

Remember that 1970's Chuck Wagon commercial?

Well, it looks like another day in da Inferno for moi. 

Enjoy your fucking weekends, bitches.

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Not Enough Vodka

Is it ironic that I was chugging organic tomato vodka on thee rocks as I sprinted to catch my cab tonight at dinner?


Chugging classy swill at an overpriced swanky vegan bistro [that's what you must call overpriced grub-rooms, right?] is one of my fortes. I may have shared with you the fact that you may try to dress me up, and you may, in fact- take me out [please do] but you are not going to get the princess of goddamned Monaco with this dame. Nosiree. I'm classy with a K.
Like KlassyLadies (TM) the first strip joint in my town growing up. 
Soooo klassy. 
Teaching poor grammar to dumb bitches with shitty self-esteem since 1986. 
Ladies: Make daddy proud.

Step One

I need another drink.

{Yes, this is what the people pay for.
 Oh ... they will fucking pay. 
So many typos. 
I am botching this noicrenrfd... I mean nice. }

My puss is snuggled up against my thigh [naturally] acting like she didn't make a mess on my bedspread earlier today. 

Poetic Injustice

 a-la "Photo Booth"

I may as well be a pageant mom

The money shot.
Just not an expensive one.
Her idea.
NOT mine.

What was endearing is now just a messy inconvenience. Fucking laundering my bedding 3x a week is a waste of time, energy, soap, water, cash and tyops. I could be talking about the hotassed train conductor I was ogling tonight. 
But no, my pussy has to go and steal my thunder.

And what's up with that fucking rainbow spinny thing? 
Wait for it- 
my ass. 

Is this supposed to lure me into a gay trap
Too late...
I already have sugar in my bowl.

After all that spinny waiting, I'm dizzy now. 
Gary, pour me a Caucasian, wouldja?


My Caucasian in a Limited Edition 1970's Holly Hobbie classic collectors' holiday glass.
And yes, that's the freshly laundered afghan in the background. 
I am reppin the 70's, yo!

My Muse.

A friend's girlfriend recently said to me that she never saw The Big Lebowski because her cunty teenaged students love it.
 I was appauled. 
What the fucking fuck? 
I mean, these turds are like fetal compared to us, and should they stop her from appreciating a modern-day zenlike hero such as The Dude here? 
I did not think so.
It's not like fuckin' Phish, (pronounced Puh-hish) the worst crap jam band. 

Jam's just redunculous, no matter how you look at it.

First of all, "jam" is utter fucking bullshit... 
Unless it is made from elderberries or some other fruity delight. 

Bitter never tasted sooo good!

I openly admit I hate Phish.
 Firstly because I find their fans repulsive on a myriad of levels only Dante could sympathize with.
 Secondly, it sucks shit through a tiny cocktail straw, as I alluded to. 

An awful idea on 4 dimensions, at least...

If I want to submit extraneous time and energy to drivel of the tuneage variety, I will gladly enjoy a hefty dose of acid jazz. Smarter and darker. 


So that being said, if you do not know Lebowski, ask yourself:
Why not?
Because you have no sense of humor or you are embittered because you work with privileged teenaged boys. 

I have no fucking tipsy idea what I was originally intending to address, subject-wise, but if I didn't keep deleting shit, you would read my slurs.

Oh, and "the Boy" A.K.A. "X" blew my phone the fuck up alllllll daayyyy. And I was also told this morning I was being sued by some fuckers who want loot from me where there is none. And I think I may be suspected of causing a very expensive mistake at work- which I totally did not make. And I missed the bus and walked in the cold rain.
Gotta go get f'd up.
Some more.

Cheers, Bitches!

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

I love my geriatric pussy...

First off, why the shit is it called "Breaking Up" instead of something else?
I get the Breaking part, I really do.
Heartbreak sucks the biggest one ever. 
But the Up... what the fuck is that?

Maybe it refers to "Up yours, buddy!"


Either way, I have been through the f'n ringer lately. 
Duh, I am newly single and f'n VD passed {like a fart} last week.
 I was a cunty bitch before, during and after that day. 

Change is Inevitable. Make it count.

But in light of the person I am and enjoy being, I am not going to erase the posts which reflect this cuntdom, nor am I going to apologize for it. It is perfectly natural to be a tad off when you split up with a lover. Or in my case, it is perfectly natural to be a tad off when you split up with a lover and the rest of your life is also in flux as well. 

So what, I am off
It only ads to my charm and charisma. 

Auntie Fuzzball originated OFF.

I have been up and down, there and back- all through the stages of the break-up.

Denial, anger, depression, thirst, lunacy, insomnia, anxiety, mania,
 puppetry, incontinence, malaise, etc. 

Today was better since I was busy all day in the studio. I was not just intellectually busy, like I have been, but I was busy with my hands- creatively. I find that when I keep moving in that way, it helps reset my brain's hard-wiring to not obsess about my stupid reeling thoughts and icky emotions.
I actually found myself being present and calm, not even thinking about X. I was more pleasant to be around, more patient with my students (which speaks volumes since I work on Mondays with middle-schoolers) and allowed myself to relax the reins. 

After I came in from a long-ass day of working and playing, I decided to look up some patterns for yarn I recently purchased on this new-to-me website I happened upon last week. 
(Ravelry is fabulous for both knitters and crocheters. If you like that stuff, click the link.) 
I did not find the pattern I had hoped to, but I did find a photo of a cat in a hat. 

No, not Seuss, a real kitty in a hat that's knitty. 

So, I decided that delirium / knitting for your cat is definitely a missing stage in "break ups."

The chapeau culpret.

Within 3 minutes of seeing the hatted cat, I emailed the poster, she directed me to the creator of the pattern, and I am that much closer to becoming "that woman" who knits for her cat.

Kitty here says F-U if you don't "get it"

Fuck it. 
Fletchie is turning fucking 20 on March 3rd, and if she does not deserve a lovely hat, who the fuck does?
20... That's like 126 in human years! 

Sara Anne's kitty. 
(S.A. made the pattern)

The original (above) cat hat pattern is still in cyber-space, but I downloaded another pattern for a lovely cabled beret earlier tonight.
For my cat. 

Cabled Beret by Wild Tomatoes.
Cat not included.

That's my FLETCHIE!!!

This is the same bitch who barfed on my freshly-laundered bedspread today.
Which reminded me of the VD turd and did not make me angry.

I love my geriatric pussy.  

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

I Survived VD & All I Got Was This Lousy T-Shirt!

I am alive to tell the story:

So what if I was a gnarly beotch yesterday? 
Do you feel worse for wear because if it?
Didn't think so.

If you cannot throw a pity party for yourself what kind of hostess are you?
Answer: A shitty one.

No, I did not make these Hostess (TM) inspired treats, 
but I am totally inspired to!

If you are a sub-par hostess, I don't want to come over to your house for a party anyway. 
I will bring my Asian Noodle Delight to someone else's gig then.
Fact: that shit's delicious!!!!

I don't actually have the noodle dish to offer you tonight. 
After all, I am still in my jammies, at 5:17 pm, the same jammies which are comprised of half of yesterday's work outfit.
I really don't care.

 I opted to NOT work today. 

Took today off instead, to care for myself and chill with Lady Fletcher- wonder kitty. 

Fletch, basking in the Love!


One of yesterday's perks was actual shit. 

Don't leave my blob!

Let me explain...

I came in from work, after being Happy Valentine's Day'd to near-death and went into my room to change and relax with a feline infused snuggle. 
BUT WAIT! What is that?!?!?

I shit you not.

The pussy who goes by "Lady" Fletcher dropped dos deuces a foot away from my pillow. 

Suspect turds looked much like these gems here.

Genius observation, Doctor!

Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream.
The power of Poop compels me! 

I immediately fell into a fit of hysterics.
I imagined her trying to pass these diamond-like [in hardness not cash value] nuggets and her getting surprised so deeply by the lack of movement, that she jumped all willy-nilly until the crap literally flew out of her starfish.

Not Like Cartman's Kitty here. 
That's a bad kitty!

Because that is exactly how she rolls, yo! 
I have seen the shitty kitty dance before- just not so close to where I lay my head.

"Here Kitty Kitty" by Litterbox.

Two minutes you will never get back.
Reason #376 why you love me.
You are welcome!

I thanked her for the memories and the hearty laugh & went into the kitchen and made a VD sandwich- with cheese.

Hope all of your VD dreams came true- 
& that none of you have The Clap!


P.S. I kind of started another little less-cunty blob. 
Feel free read on or not.